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The Obsessive Hunters Chasing Weather Balloons All Over Europe

Roland listens to the radiosondes by tuning to their frequencies with an antenna he built for the roof of his car. It allows him to drive while following the signal.

An antenna used by MeteoSuisse at its station in Payerne, Switzerland.

This receptor that connects to Roland's antenna covers a frequency from 400 to 406 Mhz.

Test equipment for checking probes before flight at the MeteoSuisse aerological station in Payerne, Switzerland.

Probes and other equipment on a table in a laboratory at the MeteoSuisse station in Payerne, Switzerland.

Roland holds the antenna in the direction the signal is the strongest.

Roland wanders the Chasseral in Switzerland trying to get a signal.

A display case shows off different models of radiosondes at the Payerne aerological station in Switzerland.

An employee at the Payerne aerological station holds a balloon he will soon attach to a probe.

Roland discovers probes stuck in a tree.

A photo taken by radiosonde hunter F1DLS with a probe he has just discovered. Hunters often photograph themselves with their catch.

A radiosonde floats about Lake Neuchâtel in Switzerland. This image was captured with a GoPro on another radiosonde, tethered to the same balloon.

A probe with its electronics on display.

A balloon carries a radiosonde into the atmosphere.

A photo taken by a radiosonde hunter OFLS to document his find.

Roland waves his antenna near the Chasseral in Switzerland.

Some retirees take up fly fishing. Others pick up golf. But when Roland—or “F5ZV,” as he’s known on ham radio—left his job in Belfort, France a decade ago, he devoted his newfound leisure to a far more peculiar hobby: hunting radiosondes.

The white plastic boxes contain instruments to measure things like wind, temperature and humidity; meteorologists send them skywards on balloons, and they transmit data back over radio waves. But somewhere around 100,000 feet, the balloons burst, and the radiosondes parachute back to earth.

Roland began using a radio receiver and antenna to track them to the rooftops, parking lots, and random cow pastures where they land. "He was completely obsessed with radiosondes," says Swiss photographer Vincent Levrat, who documents the chase in his quirky series Catch Me If You Can. "He would wake up at night just to hunt."

By Roland's own estimation, there are hundreds of other radiosonde hunters across Europe who monitor launch schedules for weather station balloons. They begin each hunt by using software called Balloon Track to predict the general area where a radiosonde might land; Balloon Track calculates the trajectory based on wind speed and burst altitude. Since the hunt can last more than six hours, hunters pack a snack—"cheese, bread and bottle of wine," jokes Roland, who allowed Levrat to photograph him only if his last name stayed private—and slip on a sturdy pair of hiking shoes before setting out. An antenna and radio receiver tuned to the probe's frequency lets them listen to its blips and beeps, which they decode with the computer program SondeMonitor. Ultimately, someone like Roland is able to track it to a precise location ... like the kitchen table of one perplexed couple who discovered it in their garden. “They couldn’t understand how I found it with my antenna,” Roland says.

Levrat lives in the Swiss city of Lausanne, just 45 minutes away from the Payerne aerological survey station, where balloons are launched twice a day. After he saw a television news story about radiosonde hunting, he contacted MeteoSuisse, the federal agency that runs the station. They introduced him to Roland, who occasionally hangs out there and has collected more than 150 radiosondes. He also runs a website dedicated to the activity. "He's not just a casual hunter," Levrat says. "He really promotes this activity."

Levrat began attending balloon launches in Payerne and joining Roland on hunts, photographing the quest with digital and medium-format cameras. In May, MeteoSuisse allowed Levrat to attach his GoPro to one of two radiosondes it sent up under a single balloon. After the scientists released it, Levrat and Roland jumped in their car and sped 40 miles north toward some fields where Roland expected the equipment to fall. Instead, the wind buffeted the probes into a nearby lake. They borrowed a boat and steered it out, relieved to find the radiosondes safely bobbing on the surface—along with Levrat's camera.

Levrat’s playful photographs capture a sweeping view of the explorer's hunt, from the radiosonde flying 13 miles above the earth to the wizened explorer hellbent on tracking it below. He's dwarfed by the spinning antenna he carries as he roams the landscape, thoroughly enjoying his retirement.